


You are who You Choose to be, (So Choose)

by Cat_184



Series: Cat's TV/Movie AUs [1]
Category: Iron Giant (1999), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Peter Parker isn't Spider-Man, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_184/pseuds/Cat_184
Summary: Movie AU like 3 people asked for.Iron Giant with a healthy helping of Iron Dad.After his Uncle was killed whilst on duty, bills pile up and Peter and his Aunt May are forced to leave the city. They wind up in Rockwell, Maine. Peter hates it. Homesick for the city Peter tries his best to fit in. Turns out bullies aren't exclusive to New York.Tony Stark hasn't been seen or heard from since Iron Man's infamous 'Civil War' with Captain America. After being abandoned by his team Tony decides a change is in order. Now enjoying the quiet life with his wife in the lake house he had built himself. Nothing happens in Maine anyway, right?A chance meeting brings the two geniuses together. Of course, the kid had to get a hundred-foot robot wrapped around his pinky. Tony is 100 percent done with this shit. Was a quiet life with his wife too much to ask?
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Cat's TV/Movie AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788610
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	1. A million to One

**Author's Note:**

> I love Iron Giant. It was one of my childhood favourites. I wasn't exactly a Disney kid growing up, my top 3 movies were Brother Bear, Balto and Iron Giant. 
> 
> Another author pointed out similarities between Iron Dad and the scene where Dean gives Hogarth coffee in the middle of the night. That got me thinking. This is the result.
> 
> Updates will likely be sporadic. I have recently come to the conclusion that while I enjoy writing I hate deadlines. They always add so much stress and suck the fun out of it. So when I have something written y'all will be the first to see it.

Rain lashed against the deck, beating down on the ancient wooden planks. Harsh waves battered the hull of the tiny fishing vessel, tossing it around as easily as if it were a rag doll. The boat tipped precariously as a storm whirled around it, uncaring of the danger it wrought. The boat's single passenger, a frail-looking old man with white receding hair and a moustache, wrestles with the wheel. He wipes his glasses furiously trying to gain some vision back. It was no good. With or without his glasses visibility was so bad that he couldn't see beyond the sides of his boat. He had half a mind to just drop anchor and pray the waves didn't drag his boat to the depths of the ocean, reclaiming his meagre haul. 

Then he saw it. The lighthouse.

But which one? He waited, anticipating the flashing code that may yet save his life. The code that would show him where the rocks are and guide him safely to shore. 

But it never came… this was no lighthouse he knew of. But still, he wrestled his boat into submission, steering it toward the light. It his only hope, like a siren on the deadly seas, it drew him in. Then the lighthouse _moved._ It didn't turn or flash. It _walked._ He watched transfixed as it turned towards him. His eyes were met by two luminous orbs suspended nearly 200 feet in the air. The eyes of a Giant Metal Man. His grip on the boat slipped as the wheel spun out of his control. He hurried to reclaim power when the hull burst open as the unforgiving waves dragged her over the deadly, jagged rocks.

The next thing he knew water was rushing into his lungs as he was dragged toward a watery grave. He fought his way to the surface only to watch in horror as his boat, his livelihood, slipped beneath the waves. He latched himself to a nearby chunk of floating debris clutching it tightly; for his life was depending on it. He glanced upward hoping to catch a glimpse of the great glowing eyes that had lured him into the rocks lethal clutches.

It was gone. There was no trace of the light that had given him such short-lived hope. 

Real or not those two luminous orbs, those _eyes_ would haunt his nightmares for years to come. As a new round of waves threatened to drag him beneath the surface again, he renewed his grip in the splintered wood keeping him afloat. He needed to focus on making it out of the water alive. 

He needed to warn people. 

Something was here. 

Something big. 

Something _Alien._

* * *

A crisp, autumn breeze blew through a small town just off the coast of Maine. The ground was still damp from the storm that had blown in the week before. The air was fresh and sweet, just the way he liked it. His asthma was so much better when the rain washed most of the pollen from the air. He glanced behind him as he crested the hill; taking in the view below. Rockwell was a small humble town; peaceful and quiet. It was beautiful this time of year, summer fading as winter closed in. Leaves were already losing that healthy green slowly gaining that golden hue. The sight made Peter Parker pause as he pedalled his way to the small diner where his aunt worked. He took his time taking in the tranquil view of the tiny town with a population of just under 2000.

He would admit, it was a good view. Some days Peter loved it; other days he hated it. If he was completely honest with himself he missed the hustle and bustle of the city. He may have been born here in his grandparent's house but he was raised in New York City. He and his aunt had been forced to move back to Rockwell after his Uncle Ben had been shot and killed in the line of duty. Ben had been a police officer for the 97th precinct back in New York City, but after he died they just couldn't afford to live there anymore. Peter knew his Aunt May missed the city too; out here she was stuck waiting tables in a crappy cafe even though she was a fully qualified nurse. There were just no job opportunities for her out here in the boondocks (wop wops) but they had no other choice.

One thing he missed most about New York (other than his anonymity) was that out here, there was little to no scrap electronics laying about. Back in the city, it wasn't uncommon to see a tv in an alley here or a broken computer in a parking lot there; out here you'd be lucky to find a pair of boots lying about, much less scrap computer parts. Still, he made do. There was a semi-decent thrift shop on the other side of town that he could count on for scrap electronics. It's what he spent most of his paltry allowance on each week.

Peter loved to tinker. He had always loved taking things apart, seeing how they worked. He knew his parents were scientists; his Dad a chemist and his Mom a biologist. He knew he was smart. Uncle Ben had always said he got that from his dad. He remembers his first day of school his dad had sat him on his knee and said "Knowledge is Power, kiddo. You fill that big brain of yours and there'll be no door you can't open." It was one of the few memories he had left of his parents, they had died in a plane crash 6 months later while off on a business trip. It was years before his uncle would tell him the second half of the saying, "knowlege is power, yes kiddo, but with great power must also come great responsibilty," this happened the first time he had come home from school with a black eye. 

Ben had told him that his parents had met in college and had been nearly inseparable till the day they died. Peter loved hearing stories about his parents almost as much as Ben loved telling them. He supposed the stories would stop now there was no one there to tell them. May hadn't known his parents too well. She had met Ben only a year before he was born and they had lived on opposite sides of the city, May and Ben in Queens and his Mom and Dad on the far side of Straten Island. She didn't know them as Ben had. Ben was his Dad's older brother; they had grown up together in the small farmhouse where he and May were now staying.

He could begrudgingly admit (but would never voice) that the town wasn't that bad. Far too quiet for his tastes but he could see the appeal. Anyway, the thrift shop had just enough to keep him going. Like he said he loved to tinker. He paused at the top of the hill to check the box with his latest invention; since parts were in low supply he had been focusing on its coding. SPYDER was his first attempt at an AI, and also the first bot he had made entirely from scratch. Subpar parts aside he thought he did a good job. He had finally gotten his little Frankenstein robot up and running and he couldn't wait to show him off to his aunt.

Taking one last look at the picturesque autumn view, Peter turned and set off down the hill to the diner. It was getting dark and the road was quiet that evening. The only sounds were the echo of the waking nocturnal wildlife and the crunching of the stiff golden leaves beneath his tires. He rode on quietly listening to the sounds you could never hear in the heart of the city. While the peaceful background noise could be considered calming to some it did nothing to ease the homesickness in his bones. God, he missed people. He also missed being anonymous, just another in the crowd, being looked at but not _seen_. In a town this small everybody knew everyone and their uncle. Talk about nosey neighbours.

SPYDER twitched in his box, searching for a way to get out and explore. Peter grinned, glancing back at the box to check the lid was still on. He didn't need SPYDER getting out before he had a chance to show him off. As he turned the last corner the diner came into view. It wasn't new by anyone standards but it wasn't anywhere near as old as most of the buildings in town. It had a retro look to it but wasn't in too bad a shape. If Peter had to guess it was likely built in the '80s or maybe the late '70s. It was a small restaurant that looked like someone had scooped it out of its decade and plonked it back down in the 21st century. The radio even played bad '90's hits over the radio, not one modern song, to drown out the incessant buzz of the obnoxious neon signs. He doubted the paint had ever been touched up. Not since the restauraunt was first opened going by the faded, weathered flakes of colour that stuck to the side of the building. 

He jumped off his bike and leant it against one of the scratched, glass windows overlooking the street. The old bell jangled as he entered the diner, SPYDER in its box tucked under his arm. The familiar tune of Britney Spears greeted him as he crossed the red and white checkered floor tiles.

"Over here, honey!" He spotted his Aunt's familiar messy bun at the other end of the bar taking a customer's order with the spare pen she kept in her hair. She must have lost her other one. He grinned. She had glanced up, giving him a tired grin and waving him over to some of the open barstools. She turned her attention back to the man she was serving, finishing up quickly. She dropped the order off at the kitchen as she made her way over to where he sat. She noticed how keyed up he was and eyed him with suspicion.

"Hey, Aunt May! You won't believe it! I did it! It works!" He babbled energetically.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What works?" She asked. Don't get her wrong she loved how creative her nephew could be… but after nearly 8 years of the boy taking apart almost anything he could get his hands on, she had learned to be wary. Some of his… creations tended to go up in smoke. Literally. She caught sight of the shoebox on his lap. "Peter. We've been over this. No more robots. I don't need another talking toaster. They aren't pets."

"But _May._ He's not a pet. He's a- He's a Friend!" Peter whined, blatantly ignoring the 'robot' part of the question. He set the box on the vacant stool next to him.

May sighed regretfully. "Peter we've been over this we have to rent one of the rooms if we're going to make ends meet. At least till I find better work and I can't do that with your crazy machines running round."

"You won't even know it's there I'll keep him in my room. _Please?_ " He pouted, going for the kicked puppy look. It wasn't fair. Why did they have to leave New York? Why did that robber have to shoot Ben? _God, Ben._ God did he miss Ben. His inventions had never been a problem before. He missed New York.

"Yes. Until you feel sorry for it and set it free in the house. Do you remember the Roomba Peter?" She shuddered. "Ugg. I remember the Roomba."

Peter scratched his neck looking sheepish, also remembering the Roomba. "Yeah, that wasn't one of my best ideas." 

In truth, the 'Roomba' had been a disaster from start to finish. He had found it abandoned in the subway station on his way home from school. He had fixed it up and gotten it working again before setting it loose in their apartment. May had quickly been convinced that it had been possessed by the devil. The tiny machine almost broke May's ankle upward of 5 times. The final straw was when it ate Ben's police reports leaving them torn up on the rug. Peter would have loved to watch his uncle explain that to his superiors. 

" _Sorry Detective Inspector, sir, the Roomba ate my after-action reports for the Fisk raids."_

That sounded almost as bad, if not worse than the "my dog ate my homework" excuse, A+ for creativity though.

He winced. Ben had not been amused. After that they made him go leave the demonic Roomba at a thrift shop far away from them (take that Brooklyn). Still, that was only one time… (totally ignoring the talking toaster, which he was).

"Please, Auntie May. At least look at it. I worked really hard on it." He turned his puppy eyes just a notch. He could see her breaking down already.

As he predicted, May caved, setting down the cloth she had been cleaning the bar with. She looked at him with her hands in her hips. "Alright. Where is it?" 

Peter glances in the box with his latest creation, only to find it empty. Oh Shit. When he had set it down he had forgotten it was liable to escape and without him holding the lid down. It would have been a cakewalk for the little bot. 

"I will... go... get it. Hehe." He let out a nervous laugh, franticly scanning the restauraunt. He needed to find that bot. Fast. Thankfully luck was on his side for once; one of May's co-workers, Mandy, came up and started to talk to her. Gossiping about one of the more insufferable customers by the sounds of it. He spins around quickly, scanning the restaurant from his stool; making use of the unexpected distraction. He needed to work quickly if he was to find it before May found out he had let one of his bots loose in her restaurant. He tuned back into his Aunt's conversation… "So he wants us to hold the mayo and the mustard. How bout we just hold the flavour all together?" Mandy huffed. Thank God. Mandy could talk for ages about absolutely nothing at all.

Peter took his cue and starts dashing around the diner looking for his robot. He ducked under tables and behind bins. The amount of old chewed up gum that those tables had collected was impressive. After bumping into half a dozen customers and nearly knocking over a waitress he saw it. He watched as it skittered under a booth. There was a man occupying it. He was sat reading the paper with a cup of cold coffee. Ugg _boring._ It seemed like such a boring, adult thing to do.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Sir? Sir." Peter asked politely, no one could ever say he didn't have manners. 

The man didn't move, not even a twitch. He glanced under the table again, SPYDER was still there scuttering around in circles. Peter bit his lip unsure of what he should do, he needed to act fast if he were to catch his invention. He cautiously tugged at the corner of the newspaper; jumping when the paper dropped from the man's loose grip. The man was sleeping! Though he did a remarkable impression of looking awake. He was still sat up straight(ish) head tilted to read the paper but his eyes were closed, hidden behind a pair of _very_ expensive sunglasses. 

Peter looked curiously at the man. He looked kinda familiar…

OH MY GOD! ohmygod!ohmygod!!!!

Peter was 90% certain he knew who this man was! He'd had a poster of him on his wall since like, _forever!_ He was one of the most brilliant inventors to ever _live._ He was right up there with Leonardo da Vinci, Nikola Tesla and the Wright Brothers. This man was _Tony Stark!_

He was sure of it. 

This was the elusive former CEO of STARK Industries. Iron Man! Wait… what was Iron Man doing in Rockwell, Maine? In fact, where had he been for the past two years? Iron Man nor Tony Stark had been seen in public since his very public dispute with Captain America. Maybe he was on a secret mission! In that case, he better not blow Mister Stark's cover. 

At that moment SPYDER decided to crash into Mister Stark's shoe. Peter flinched as he waited for the the billionaire jerk awake at the impact. To his amazement, Mister Stark just gave a snort then a loud snore, dropping the newspaper.

Peter couldn't help it. He giggled. But could you blame him? Who knew Tony Stark _snored?_ This was like the coolest thing ever! Oh, he couldn't _wait_ to tell Ned! He was gonna Flip Out when he heard about this. 

Hmmm… he would need proof if he wanted Ned to believe him. Hell, he wasn't even sure he believed him. Peter quickly snuck out his phone ready to take a quick pic but ultimately decided against it. You shouldn't take anyone's photo without their permission it was rude 'specially since the man was sleeping.

"Sir?" He tried again, louder this time.

That did the trick. The billionaire's eyes blinked open. 

\--

"Huh?" Tony glanced around, scanning the room for what had woken him. Huh? When did he fall asleep? He knew he shouldn't have worked 36 hours without sleeping. He also knew he probably should have taken a nap or something before heading out, but the coffee here was half decent and he'd run out at the junkyard he was working at (hiding in). 

He had found it wasn't that bad. Out of the public eye, his and Pepper's relationship had bloomed. He had often thought that it would have been impossible for him to hang up his suit but after his… _spat_ with Rogers and almost his entire ~~family~~ team had abandoned him, he decided to fuck it and disappear. Honestly, the best decision he had made since busting out of that cave and shutting down the weapons division of SI.

Pepper was at that moment back in New York City doing all that boring adult stuff that came with running and owning an international, multi-billion dollar company. She had to go back into the city every second week to manage the company. She was CEO after all. That was usually when his self-destructive work habits tended to play up. Hence, the 36-hour working spree, though, in his defence he may have just broken the laws of phyics.

"Sir?" 

A childish voice brought him back to the present. He was at the diner in town. His coffee was cold. He had fallen asleep. A kid had woken him up. The kid must be due a haircut with loose, light chocolate brown curls framing his face but then maybe the kid liked it long. His chestnut eyes were wide and expressive. The kid was small, tiny in fact. P.E must be torture for this kid. He didn't come across as much of a threat. 

"Huh?" He says again. Nice. Eloquent. He should probably try words. "What's up, kid?"

The kid squints at him as if trying to place him. He's not too worried nobody had recognised him in over a year. He had shaken up his look, changed his beard. It was smaller, less showy but not far from what it used to be. His clothes were vastly different from his usual affair. He was wearing a two day old Black Sabbath tee, rumpled jeans and stuffy old boots that were covered in mud. Occupational hazard of living out here in the country, it has mud. It also has cow shit and sheep droppings but he had been smart enough to avoid those. All in all a far cry from the ten-thousand-dollar suits and Tom Ford loafers he was last seen in.

Something brushes against his leg, scaring the bejesus out of him. His eyes dart down then back at the boy who cringed guiltily.

"Please don't move sir. My- my invention is under your table." The kid stuttered.

Invention? This kid was couldn't be more than ten? He gives the kid another look, this time taking in his dorky T-shirt: _The Rotation of the Earth really makes my Day_ (he couldn't help it the joke made him chuckle). The kid also had a Midtown- wait, a _Midtown_ jacket on? Midtown was a highly prestigious STEM high school back in New York, maybe he had underestimated the boy's age or maybe he was a prodigy kid. It was more than enough to make him curious and perhaps a little cautious of whatever was beneath his table. He leads over to peek beneath the table immediately regretting that decision when he sees all the filth clinging to the underside of the countertop.

"No! Please don't look, sir. If you make a scene my Aunt will make me dismantle him." The kid pleaded. "Please, sir."

"Hey. Hey, relax, kid. What kind of invention is it anyway?" He asked, humouring the kid.

The boy's face lit up like a megawatt bulb. "I call him SPYDER. But don't worry he's friendly. I made him myself. It's like a spy not but it looks like I need to work on its coding though. He's not very good at listening to commands yet." 

He started to bounce with that excitable, infectious energy all kids seem to possess. He couldn't help it, a grin snuck onto his own face as the kid started rambling about his 'invention'. It was kinda adorable. 

Wait, what? since when were kids _adorable?_

They were snotty and messy and whiney; everything that _wasn't_ adorable.

Raised voices from a couple of booths over, drew his attention away from the kid who was still going on about his robot. He was progressively talking faster and faster. Tony was a little worried that the kid would pass out if he didn't stop to breathe soon. He was smart, Tony would give him that. The voices were loud enough that they couldn't be ignored. This was a family establishment; those morons wouldn't be dumb enough to start a brawl in here, surely?

Tony held up one finger to the kid. The spiel of speech spewing from the kid's mouth came to an abrupt stop as he followed Tony's gaze to the offending booth. A fisherman was standing emphatically warning other customers of some mysterious threat he had encountered on the high seas. The fisherman had a receding hairline and old fashioned glasses. His silvery grey hair was slicked back. He rubbed agitatedly at his painters brush moustache.

"I'm telling the truth! Goddamit! It came from outer space! I saw it and it was headed toward land. I called the government and Washington. Maybe it was a Sputnik or a Vader from mars. Yes, I think that's what it is... it's an invader from mars! A spaceship of some kind. What if it's those scary lookin' ones that attacked New York?! It was an unidentified flying _something._ " The elderly man was yelling.

"Unidentified? Knowing you, Stan, I'd say it was either whiskey or beer." A brown-haired man ridiculed the older man. His surrounding mates roar with laughter. Those closest to him gave him hearty slaps on the back. The fisherman (Stan?) reels back hurt by their responses. 

Normally Tony wouldn't care but he had seen the way the kid's mood had dropped when the men had started laughing. A nerdy kid like him must get picked on constantly. Tony could sympathise, being 15 in college wasn't all it cracked up to be. God, he hated bullies.

He doesn't know what possessed him to do so but his mouth moved before his brain could stop it. "Hey! I saw it too." 

Silence settles in the restaurant. The only sound is the radio playing in the background. Ironically, the song playing was Basket Case by Green Day. 

The asshole gave him a once over, taking in his scruffy appearance and sneers, "I rest my case." Gaining another round of laughs.

"Ahhh. Whatever." Tony waved them off with a dismissive wave. He had stopped caring what other people thought in his twenties. He turned around surprised to see the kid was still there. Wasn't he just there for his invention or whatever?

"I believe you. What if it _is_ the chitauri? Or some other alien?" The kid asked quietly. A shit. They had upset the kid. If his assumption about his midtown jacket was correct, there was a high possibility the kid witnessed the attack.

"Sorry kid. I was just pulling your leg. Standing up for the little guy. Ya know? If we don't, who will? Any don't worry about the chitauri, I blew them to kingdom come so they won't be back," he reassured. Trying to distract the kid he asked, "So you make robots, huh kid?"

"Ok…" The kid still seemed unsure but he thought a moment before asking, "Then what are you… what are you doing… ya know, here?" he gestured around them.

Confused, Tony lifted his mug, "Uh... coffee?" what did the kid mean what is he doing here? He should think it was fairly obvious.

The kid tilted his head and looked at him as if he was the one being thick. "No. I mean, if not aliens, why is Iron Man in Rockwell?"

Double shit. He had to be found by the one person in a fifty-mile radius that would recognise him. He gave the kid a meaningful look that could have been translated to 'shut up, I'm not really here. Please don't say anything'. Just in case he had left any doubt he said carefully and very quietly, "Officially, no, he's not."

Understanding dawned on Junior's face and he nodded so fast Tony was scared his head might fall off. 

Seconds later two things happened simultaneously a large _something_ began climbing the _inside_ his pant leg and a rather attractive brunette came up to the table. If he wasn't so in love with Pepper, in another life maybe he would have flirted with her, preferably in a life where he didn't have some unknown object making it's way up his trousers. What the fuck had the kid created?

"Is my kid bothering you, sir?" The brunette asked kindly a tired smile plastered on her face. This must be the boy's mother. Wow, she looked exhausted. He wondered absently how long she had worked today.

"No? NO!" He forces a strained smile on his face trying hard not to show that SPYDER had found its way to the seat of his pants. God damn, it was uncomfortable. So spiky. 

She looked sceptical. 

Did the kid often strike up random conversations with strangers? That wasn't safe. He does that in the city he'll likely find himself in one hell of a pickle. 

"Ok? Peter honey I thought you were gonna go get your thing?"

Quickly while nobody was looking he shoved the robot back down one leg. It wasn't much better but there was some improvement.

"I will May. Right after I finish talking to Mister-"

"Howard! Howard Potts, at your service." Tony cut the kid off before he blurted out who he really was to the entire restaurant. He tries to flash a winning smile but it comes across as a grimace. That damn robot was back on top of his junk again and it was almost painful. He shoved the bot down again, jiggling his leg a bit. To his relief, the bot dropped back down to his ankle. His relief was short-lived as SPYDER once again started on its quest up his leg.

The kid- Peter- he knew the kid's name now, gave him a strange look before nodding. "Riigght… Mister Potts. Right."

His mother narrowed her eyes at him, "Ok honey. You know where I'll be." She turned back to the rest of the diner collecting empty dishes on her way back to the kitchen. Tony waited for her to be out of earshot before turning to the kid, but the kid had already started talking again.

"That was my Aunt. She takes care of me you know? Just me and her now. She works really hard-"

"Kid! I've found your thing!" Tony cut him off agin, not able to listen to another ten minutes of nonsensical babble from him, whilst a spy bot was dancing on his crotch.

Peter jumped. "Really? Where?" He ducked beneath the booth, searching. Yeah. Bit late for that buddy.

"It's up my leg kid! Whatever you built; it's in my pants! Peter!" He hissed.

"Uhh. Please don't wig out!" Peter panicked, his robot wasn't supposed to do that!

"Ok. Ahh! Nope. It's heading north now."

A pointy, metal leg hit exactly the wrong place. Tony shot out of the booth at lightning speed. He had had enough. This bot was coming out now and the kid was not going to like it. So much for not causing a scene.

He looked apologetically at Peter. "Sorry kid."

He spun around and readied his zipper.

"I'd like to apologize to everybody in advance for this." He unzips his fly letting his jeans drop a couple of inches. He was fairly sure he had just mooned the elderly couple having dinner in the opposite booth. 

A small 7 legged _thing_ fell from the top of his pants, clattering to the ground. Wait, only 7 legs? Spiders typically had eight legs. Kid didn't seem like one to overlook something like that. Maybe he ran out of parts or some shit. For something that was thrown together by a 10 year old it wasn't half bad, sturdy little thing it was. Lots of stamina.

Amazingly the small machine righted itself and kept moving. It scurried under an unsuspecting waitress's foot, tripping her up. She landed heavily on the ground in an ungraceful heap. Her tray went soaring in the air, empty mugs flying everywhere. Thank God they were empty he thought; otherwise, that would have hurt a lot more. He needs to find out what those mugs were made of as not one shattered on landing on the hard, tile floor.

He quickly re did his fly as quickly as he could and tried to make himself look somewhat presentable. He notices that he had managed to attract the attention of everyone in the diner. Huh, what could he say? He was born to hold the attention of any room he walked into. He knew there was a high chance someone got that on camera too. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time the world had seen him with his pants down.

The bot had finally run out of steam, it appeared to have lost two more appendages since bowling over the waiter and had collapsed in a heap three feet from the door. SPYDER gave a pitiful whine before falling to pieces with a puff of smoke. 

He was impressed it had lasted that long. Jeans generally weren't the most habitable place for a robot. Peter's Aunt, May, was it? She, on the other hand, was not. 

Again Tony was wondering if this was a regular occurrence with the kid.

She put a firm hand on Peter's shoulder while giving a look that started very clearly 'we will be having _words_ later'. Yeesh. Good luck kid. Man, he did not envy him, she looked furious. 

"Cheque, please," was all he could say. He wasn't going to interfere with someone else's parenting.

He looked back at the kid who looked beyond guilty. Peter had escaped May's grip to help the waitress up off the floor. He gathered the miraculously unbroken crockery and carefully arranged it back on her tray. Chaotic or not he was a good kid.

"Sorry," he murmured as he handed it back to her.

May brought him the bill for his coffee quietly. Most of the diner had gone back to their meals for which he was thankful. Tony Stark or not, nobody liked to humiliate themselves in public. He paid May, slipping two 50 dollar bills in her tip jar when she wasn't looking. She seemed the type who would perceive it as 'charity'. It wasn't. It wasn't that he thought she needed charity, just that she could use a kind deed and maybe some time off. He didn't need the money so he liked to give it to people where it could make a difference.

Tony couldn't help but empathise with the kid. He had brains and he had talent but nowhere to actually use those talents in a safe environment. Tony could teach him a thing or two. Who was he kidding? He was Tony Stark and Tony Stark didn't _teach._ He didn't help, he just broke and hurt. The Avengers proved it. But that didn't stop him from throwing one last comment over his shoulder on his way out the door. 

"Kid from one inventor to another, not bad. But please do your test runs elsewhere."

Peter preened at the praise, smiling proudly. Dear lord, the kid had even puffed out his chest. Tony hid his grin. This kid. The grin was harder to conceal when the boy winced at May's exasperated gaze. Yeah, he didn't blame her. Good kid or not he was a handful.


	2. Home Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter enjoys having the house to himself but who the hell are the power box?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know nothing about asthma so don't judge me. Also, the movie for me is a loose guide not something ridged I have to stick with so this may ver off track at some point. Stay tuned. 
> 
> P.S I have not abandoned any of my fics just moved them to the back burner

By the time Peter had biked home it was well and truly dark. Before moving out to country Aunt May would never have let him wander around outside after sunset back in New York, it was too dangerous, she said, a perk of knowing everybody in town, he guessed. So yeah, out here in the boondocks he was fairly safe and all sane bears would be hibernating, but then it was the crazy ones you had to watch out for. He glanced out at the woods. Trees branching out for miles, the ginormous redwoods stood guard. Giant sentries that surrounded the town. He wasn't afraid of the woods. He had learned long ago not to be afraid of the dark, it was quite literally the absence of light, nothing physically changed when the lights went out. Besides, without the light pollution from the city, thousands of stars adorned the night sky, millions of tiny night lights to guide the way. 

Stars had always fascinated him, the only proven ghosts. (As a man of science he really shouldn't believe in the afterlife, but as one who had lost so many he had hope that maybe, one day, he'd see them again). He would never get lost if he could see the stars, it was the first thing he had studied when they had moved out to the country. The city had too much light pollution to see more than a few stars and that was if you were lucky.

Turning his back on the woods he slipped into the house. He winced when he realised he had forgotten to lock the door in his rush to show his invention to his aunt. Silently berating himself he quickly checked their few valuables, flicking on lights as he went. Relaxing only when he was certain that he had been the last person in the house. To most, this would have been a relief, to Peter, it was yet another reminder of how things had changed. In the city, you were almost guaranteed a breaking if any windows or doors were left unsecured, especially in the area they had lived in before. 

He dumped the box of parts that had once been SPYDER next to the front door, locking it out of habit rather than necessity. The house was an old country farmhouse, it had old peeling wallpaper, threadbare carpets and old fashioned tiles. For a house that was nearly a hundred years old, it was in fair shape, although he wasn't altogether convinced that someone hadn't been murdered in the barn out front. The ancient phone in the kitchen began to ring, was a massive improvement from the screeching it gave off when they first moved in. The phone was _so_ old. It still had a rotary dial for crying out loud! He had tinkered with it the best he could with the ancient tech, fixed it up so you could at least make out what the person on the other end of the line was saying.

He already knew who was calling before he picked it up. Cell reception was shite out here and had been, if possible, _worse_ this past week. Whenever May had to work late she would call and let him know. 

"Hello? This is Peter Parker speaking," He answered politely. He knew there was no need but still, there was that minuscule chance it wasn't his aunt on the line.

"Peter?" she asked as if someone else would have picked up. "Honey, I'm really sorry-" there was a jostling on her end, he waited patiently for her to continue even though he already knew what she was going to say. 

"I need to work late tonight, honey. There's leftover thai in the fridge. You can have that and some veges…" 

Peter grimaced. Thai used to be something they did every week. It used to be his favourite. However, this tiny, closed-minded, bigoted town didn't exactly have a Thai takeout. Aunt May's solution was to find online recipes to well, mutilate. Lets Uncle Ben hadn't married her for her cooking, let's leave it at that.

"Way ahead of you Aunt May," He slid open his drawer of junk food, most of it sweets. At least he wouldn't be going hungry.

"I'll make it up to you, ok?"

"Ok."

May sighs, "I larb you honey."

"I larb you too."

"And Peter? No movies, no late-night snacks and bed by 9 o'clock. Got it?"

"C'mon, May. It's me remember?" 

Glancing at the clock Peter made his plans. May wouldn't be home till nearly midnight. The clock read half-past six. More than enough time to start a Star Wars marathon.

* * *

10.43 pm

_"You have been defeated. Do not let yourself become destroyed as Obi-Wan did."_

Peter rose to the edge of his seat, preparing for one of the biggest plot twists known to modern man. He stuffs an overfilled twinkie in his mouth.

_"There is no escape. Don't make me destroy you."_

_Luke backed out, off of the platform, desperate to get away from the Sith Lord. Clutching his severed wrist he was defenceless without his lightsaber. With his good hand, he clung on for dear life._

_Vader advances._

_"Luke, you do not yet realise your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me, and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy…"_

_"I'll_ **_never_ ** _join you!"_

_"If only you knew the power of the dark side… Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father…"_

_"He told me enough._ ** _He told me you_** **_killed him!"_** _Luke deftly scaled the terminal, dropping down putting more space between him and the Sith Lord. Searching desperately for a way out._

There was a crash on the roof, the sounds of groaning metal reverberated through the night. Peter dismissed it, too absorbed in one of his favourite films. Probably a possum. There were _so_ many out there.

 _"Luke… I_ **_am_ ** _your-"_

The power went out and Darth Vader never completed the unforgettable sentence. Peter falls off the couch in horror. Why _now?_ Why did it have to stop _there?_

"No! No. No. No." He chanted. Grabbing his torch he stumbled down to the basement to check the fuses. Weird, they were all fine. Something else must have caused the power cut. Running up the stairs he threw his head out the second-story window in the guest room. He leant out to check the power box that was located two feet to his right or used to be located two feet to the right, the power box was gone! All that was left was a tangle of torn wires and a mess of exposed circuits. It looked as if it had been torn off! His narrow torch beam traced the ground below searching for the box. A trail of debris littered the garden where the picket fence had been knocked down, bits of splintered wood now littering the yard. The trail continued onwards leading straight into the dark wood where branches lay snapped and twisted, all contorted out of shape. Trees were leaning at unnatural angles, their roots ripped from the ground.

What on earth could have done this?

No. Not from earth. "Invaders from Mars…" he whispered to the night air. It wouldn't have been the first time earth had been visited by creatures of the extraterrestrial variety.

Peter gathered supplies. Helmet, check. Boots, check. Coat, check. Torch, check. He turns to leave, his BB gun catching his eye from beneath his bed. He knew logically, that it wouldn't do much against whatever had taken their power box but he grabbed anyway. Weapon. Check.

He was ready.

* * *

He crept across the lawn. This was so cool it was like he was a secret agent or something. He marched on to the edge of the trees. He takes back everything he said earlier. Logic aside, the woods were terrifying at midnight. He was all alone and the trees looked like giant trolls, their branches thick arms read to reach out and snag him.

His Aunt May's voice echoed in his head. The sage advice he had been given after nearly burning down the apartment after he had fiddled with the oven.

_You've got to be more cautious. Think before you act. Because remember; 'curiosity killed the cat'._

He couldn't help but feel like the cat in this situation. Peering back through the darkness to the safety of the house. It wasn't too late. He could turn back, go to bed, pretend nothing had happened. No one would know. He would know. This is ridiculous, Peter scolded himself. Him, Peter Parker, scared of a few trees? Never. Probably wasn't going to see anything tonight anyway. He was a man of facts. He would put his faith in the statistics. He would see this through. Besides the chances of anything coming from Mars was a million to one... or so they said. Though since Thor appeared the odds had probably gone up considerably. 

_What_ was he thinking? That _Thor_ was in these woods, _Thor_ had taken the power box? He laughed out loud, feeling rather silly. "Space invaders, really? Why am I an idiot?" 

An owl gives a loud hoot in reply, scaring him half to death.

"JESUS! A rhetorical question, asshole!" He yelled back angrily as he tried to slow his heart rate. He was thirteen for crying out loud! He shouldn't be scared by a stupid owl! The large bird's only response was the flutter of its wings as it soared off into the night, likely in the search of more peaceful hunting grounds. He was causing a bit of a racket.

Huffing, he moved to walk again only to fall flat on his face. His foot had caught on a looping tree root hidden beneath the autumn leaves. His unmanly scream filled the night air, echoing off the trees as he hit the ground with a thud. Then to add insult to injury, a large raccoon decided now was the time to dash across the undergrowth vaulting over his tangled legs. He gave another girly screech and scrambled away from the creature. At the noise, the raccoon stopped and stared at him. Its eerie yellow eyes piercing him with a look that, if he had to guess, was telling him to shut up.

Annoyed, he brushes himself off. Picking up his torch he set off again searching for the source of the destruction. More fallen branches littered the path. He knew there was a small electrical substation up ahead. If he hadn't found whatever _it_ was by the time he reached it he would turn back. Pick up the search in the morning. That was the smart thing to do anyway. Well, no. The smart thing would be to turn around and forget this ever happened but hey, nobody ever said he had any common sense.

He continues deeper into the wood. Crackling and sparking can be heard coming from ahead.

The substation. 

He gulps. Bravely heading towards the disturbance. He ducks behind a rock to steel his nerves before rounding the last tree. The ground begins to tremble like lots of mini earthquakes.

Thud... Thud... Thud…

He crouches down behind a patch of undergrowth before making a sprint for the small power plant. It looked bigger in the dark, almost glowing. The tremors got stronger. 

Thud...Thud…Thud...

The thudding was coming from behind him. He twists around to try and see whatever it was. Which shouldn't be hard, the thing must have been huge to make the ground shake like that.

Oh, God. He was right. It was huge. _What_ it was, was another question. All he could see was its two glowing eyes almost a hundred feet in the air, both fixed hungrily on the substation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It hadn't seen him, that was good. He sighed in relief, deflating a little. Dear lord that thing was huge.

Thud.Thud.Thud.

It marched closer. 

* * *

The minute the clock hit 11 May was out the door and in her beat-up old Corolla. It had been a very long day. As a nurse, she was no stranger to 12 hour shifts. The difference was that she _liked_ being a nurse, saving lives, helping people. Waitressing was thankless work, nothing but sucking up to annoying, whiny adults. No offence but she doesn't give two shits about their life. And her manager! Heaven forbid he actually do some work! No. He would just push it off onto her and the girls. God, he was such a dick.

Needless to say, she hated it. Now here she was finally heading home four hours after her shift had finished. Sighing she coaxed the car in to drive ignoring its loud protests. She would need to take it to the mechanic soon, though it may be cheaper to just replace the damn thing.

The first sign something was wrong was when the street lights went out. It didn't take much for her to guess that it was a power cut. Groaning, she flicked on her high beams. This didn't worry her too much, this happened more often than she cared to admit. Too many goddamn trees. One had likely felled a line again. 

Pulling up outside the dark farmhouse, she climbed out of the car. Shutting the door as quietly as she could behind her, wincing as it whined loudly anyway. Maybe Peter could fix it up a bit? He was good with this sort of thing. Couldn't hurt either way. She figured it must be impossible to make that car any worse. Famous last words she chuckled.

She noticed the second sign something was up at the front door. She had been fumbling with her keys only to find it unlocked. That wasn't right. Living in the city meant locking doors was second nature. It was ingrained in their very being, written in their muscle memory. Something they did without thinking. Such a small thing to most sent her alarm bells ringing. That door should never be unlocked. She made her way through the pitch darkness guided only by the faint silvery moonlight seeping in through the windows. She quickly locates the kitchen, digging through the unorganised drawers for a torch. It didn't take her very long to find one even if it was a cheap crappy one that she was fairly certain had come from a Christmas cracker four years ago. 

Now armed with a light she entered the living room. The narrow beam of light cutting through the shadows. Frowning as she finds the abandoned movie night. She took in the candy wrappers and chip packets. Blankets were strewn across almost every surface. The room was a pigsty.

Had Peter listened to anything she had said earlier?

"Peter!" She hollered. She had every intention of waking him up and forcing that kid to clean this mess. He could do it in the dark for all she cared. Peter was a big boy now he knew what he had done wrong and he knew better than to leave the place looking like this.

There was no answer. 

That was the third and final strike. Something was very wrong. Peter slept like a log, they both did, but he always, _always_ answered her.

"Peter? Honey?" She swiftly climbed the stairs as fast as she dared in the dark.

There was still no response.

"Peter? Peter?" She knocked on his door, worry lacing her voice. Why wasn't he answering?

Her question was answered soon enough.

Pushing open Peter's bedroom door she expected to see the teenager asleep with his headphones on or something. The bed was empty. Torchlight darted around the messy bedroom, searching for any sign of the missing boy.

"Peter?!"

No. No. No! This could not be happening. Where was her baby? She couldn't lose him. Not him too. She needed him, he was all she had left. She ran outside, circling the house, "Peter? PETER!"

* * *

Oh, no. This was bad. This was very, very bad. The massive metal feet came closer closing in the distance between it and Peter. Whatever it was, it was about to step on him. Crush him like an insignificant insect that got in its way. He ran. The _thing's_ feet came ever closer. He wasn't going to make it. This is how he dies, he was going to die here squished like an ant under a boot…

Fate, luck, or just really good fortune (for a change), he doesn't care what you call it, he tripped over a rock, slamming to the ground for the second time that night. The laws of physics state that if he had kept moving he would have ended up occupying the same space as the giant's foot. Physics also states that two objects are unable to occupy the same space. One would have to give way, or, in other words, he would have been crushed. Never before had he been so grateful for a rock.

He looked up from the tight ball he had forced himself into. He looked in awe as he saw the _thing_ properly for the first time. Silhouetted against the glowing pylons he studied it. The great mysterious _thing_ was a giant metal man. Over 100 feet tall, he looked like a large scale working model of an old fashioned toy robot. He watched the robot carefully. It was currently... eating(?) the powerplant. It was _eating_ the _substation._ It was grabbing everything in sight and shoving it greedily down its throat. Wait… did robots even have throats? He pondered.

Peter didn't think this giant robot was of earth. He could be wrong but despite its humanoid appearance, it just looked _off,_ just ever so slightly... _alien_. It looked dangerous, certainly a thousand tones of steel would be a threat to anyone's health, but it had no visible signs of weaponry. He was relieved to find it didn't look Chitauri either, The earth didn't much like the Chitauri, not after their attack on New York. Peter had been in midtown when the invasion started (he'd been shopping with uncle Ben as he needed yet another pair of glasses, courtesy of Flash.) and could remember the way they had swarmed over everything, tearing up the street as the went along, ripping chunks off of buildings. He remembered the sickly grey hue of their scaley skin and the hair-splitting sound of their screeches.

So much for a million to one.

He shakes himself out of he reverie and watches in horror as the Giant grabbed one of the live transformers. An unearthly sound escaped it. Peter flinched violently at the sound. It was somewhere between, nails on a chalkboard and grinding gears but at the same time, a high pitched whine.

Four thousand volts of energy surged through the Giant's metal body. The Giant stumbles, desperate to get away from the pain. It lurched backward clumsily, right into the equally live power lines. Screaming in agony as the electricity burned him. Metal limbs flailing as the Giant tried to wrestle itself free. This only served to get him knotted tighter in the wire's ruthless grasp.

The sound of grinding metal filled the night air as the Giant continued to scream. Hands clamped firmly over his ears Peter makes his choice.

Sparks rain down on him as he dashes the last stretch to the now wrecked substation. His eyes scanning the now bent and twisted power plant for the emergency stop button, finding what he was searching for weaved his way through the wreckage. He grabbed the switch, tugging as hard as he could. Peter had never been particularly strong, and for something that should have been easy enough for the average Joe (emergency and all) the switch was being very resistant. He heaved at it wishing not for the first time he had any notable upper body strength or _any_ body strength really. Finally throwing all of his hundred and ten pounds of weight down on the stubborn lever, he was almost hanging off it. That did the trick, the switch giving way. Panting softly he waited as the soft glow surrounding him softly faded as the electricity shut off. The faint electric hum dying down.

The Giant sagged in relief. Peter watches in alarm as the light in the Giant's eyes faded. It's metal limbs locked up the joints protesting under the strain of the metal man's deadweight. One by one the power lines snapped and the Giant pitched backwards, the ground rushing up to meet it. The sound of the collision was deafening. Peter could _feel_ the shockwave reverberate through the still air he was so close, it was loud enough that he was certain it must have woken the entire town.

Was it dead? 

Shit! 

Had he killed _it?_

 _Please don't be dead,_ he thought silently.

He wasn't sure what came over him, maybe it was the scientist in his heart or maybe it was the same curiosity that got that cat killed. Peter scrambled over to the Giant's side. Clambering clumsily up a downed tree. He threw a stone at the robot. Not so much as a twitch. Feeling brave he came closer, he climbed up on to the massive head. Peering curiously into its gaping mouth. He drops a pebble into the darkness. It clattered into the nothingness disappearing from view.

Entranced, he didn't notice as the giant began to stir. The light returning to its eyes. The giant looked at the small human crouched on its head curiously. Peter glanced behind him, looking away from the massive mouth. He screamed, having seen the glowing eyes. He leapt off the metal man as if burned. He scrambled as fast as he could back down the tree. Running as fast as he could, looking back only once to see the Giant shakily getting to its feet. His heart beating a million miles per hour, Peter surged onward. He stumbled out onto a dirt road. He had to get out of there. 

Still screaming Peter runs toward the nearest road. He flagged down the first car he sees; which to his great relief was Aunt May's. He had never been so happy to see the hunk of junk they called a car. May slammed on the breaks, throwing herself out of the door the moment the car stopped moving.

"PETER!" May flew into him. Bundling the panting boy up into her arms. Pulling back to inspect her kid, she took in the minor scrapes and scraps. Then she notices how hard her kid is breathing. Each breath coming out ragged and strained. Quickly she ran back to the car snagging his emergency inhaler.

What the hell was he doing out here?

Peter hadn't even realised how hard his breathing had gotten until Aunt May was holding out his spare inhaler. He took it gratefully, uncomfortable now that he was aware of the tightness in his chest. After a few puffs from it, his breaths came easier. Sighing in relief he looked back at his Aunt who had wrapped her arms around him again.

His relief was short-lived, quickly turning to dread as his Aunt's expression shifts from relief to anger.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing out here?! You _know_ better than to run off alone at night. What if something had happened to you?" her scolding began. "Of all the irresponsible, reckless, _idiot_ things to do! Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?"

"I'm really sorry May," Peter ducked his head in shame. Yeah, tonight really wasn't his best ideas.

"Don't you _ever_ do anything like this again, Peter. I was terrified. I thought I'd lost you." She pulled him back into a crushing hug. She began to drag him over to the car, bundling him in a fast as she could.

Peter decided to test the waters. She couldn't be that mad, could she? "Aunt May! You'll never believe this... something _ate_ our power box!"

May, who had been expecting this shook her head, exhausted. She had been at work since 10 am this morning and wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed. "Peter." She growled through grit teeth warning clear in her tone. She had another long shift tomorrow.

Peter apparently misread her mood because he ploughed on anyway. "No! No no. May! I'm serious! But it's not Sputnik like Mister Potts said. It's" he spluttered excitedly having already forgotten that said 'Robot' had almost crushed him ten minutes ago. His splutter turned into a cough and he took another puff from his inhaler before taking off again. "It's a ROBOT! A GIANT ROBOT!"

"Peter... PETER! Please!" May hits the breaks for the second time that night, whipping round to face her nephew, fixing him with a glare. She really couldn't handle this right now.

"But this Robot was like a hundred feet tall." He pouted.

"PETER. STOP IT! Just please stop. I'm not... I'm not in the mood. Come on. Let's go home. We can talk in the morning.

May and Peter drove the rest of the way back in silence. Just as they leave the forest Peter turns around and scans the tree line for the Giant. He spots the Giant standing off in the distance watching as they drive away.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, may I say I have soo much more respect for those who do TV/movie AUs. I'm sure there is an easier way to get the movies' script but I don't know it so I resorted to watching the film again and writing it down manually. It was exhausting and is taking forever.
> 
> That being said I don't enjoy the fics where the author literally just swaps out the names of the characters. That just seems to defeat the purpose right? My understanding was that the idea was to mash two films or tv shows together, not necessarily with equal parts but not to copy and paste. 
> 
> So, you may have noticed I have taken some (a lot) of creative licence here to help make the characters fit better. (Then again, this is Fan Fiction, creative licensing is kinda the point).
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Yours truly,  
> Cat.


End file.
